


I have nothing to say to you

by Quicksilvermaid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Headcanon, M/M, Silence, War Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 15:04:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15754155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quicksilvermaid/pseuds/Quicksilvermaid
Summary: For the prompt: I told everyone that I didn’t want to talk but I'm actually dying for attention.Except it got dark and post war sadness.





	I have nothing to say to you

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a drabble than a fic. I'm keeping a bunch of placeholder stories here to expand on later, so I don't lose them on tumblr.
> 
> Jump over and say hi and hound me to write more if you like haha: [@quicksilvermaid](http://quicksilvermaid.tumblr.com)

Harry hadn’t spoken in weeks - three weeks and five days to be exact. To start with, it was all too much - too overwhelming. He felt like if he opened his mouth he would scream and never stop. If he opened his mouth, he would let every single fear and dark though and regret and loss pour out and he would drown himself and everyone around him in it.

It was better to be silent. To keep it all inside. They had won after all. No one wanted to hear the darkness was still all through him.

To start with, they were worried it was a curse - some strange side effect of his … death. In the end he had to write it down. 'I don’t want to talk. I have nothing to say. Leave it alone. Please.' And they did, eventually. Mrs Weasley had looked at him - really looked - and then she had ordered the Healers out, and the Ministry officials out and everyone except Ron and Hermione out.

To start with, he could feel the words beating against his throat, trying to claw their way out. But he wouldn't let them. Now … now it was easier. Soothing almost. He could sit in silence in a room full of people and be alone with his own thoughts, let them flow around him, and watch where they went, instead of trying to chase them and constantly interrupting them with the clatter of other people's thoughts.

He was sitting in a Muggle café near the entrance to Diagon Alley when a familiar drawl cut through his thoughts.  
'Well if it isn't Harry "I told everyone that I didn’t want to talk but I'm actually dying for attention" Potter.'

He looked up into the grey eyes and smirking face of Draco Malfoy. He felt his fragile calm crack and returned his eyes to his plate, hoping Malfoy would take the hint and just leave.

Instead he pulled out a chair and slouched down opposite Harry, one leg crossed over the other casually.

Harry glared at him, trying to communicate without words that he could just piss off thank you very much.

'So what's the deal, Potter?'

Harry narrowed his eyes.

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. 'Getting you what you want is it, acting like this?'

Harry felt anger curl through him. What did Malfoy know.

'I always thought the Gryffindor in you ran to the bone,' Malfoy said, shaking his head in mock dismay. 'What you're doing,' he made a dismissive gesture at Harry, 'seems surprisingly cowardly.'

Harry gritted his teeth and stood up from the table, turning to leave.

Malfoy's hand shot out, gripping his arm, and Harry looked up into grey eyes. Malfoy's gaze was strong and clear.  
'You know,' he said. 'If there was ever someone you could say whatever you wanted to … ever someone who's probably heard and seen and done worse …' Malfoy's voice trailed off and for the first time he sounded almost uncertain.

Harry looked at him, and thought about what he knew of the darkness and loss in Draco Malfoy's life. He thought about the Dark Mark, the Astronomy Tower, the Room of Hidden Things and of being helpless in Malfoy Manor. He thought of all those things and more, and felt the pain inside himself reach out in response.

He looked into grey eyes and he felt, for the first time in weeks, words rising into his throat, seeking to get out.

The silence between them stretched for eternity. His voice, when he spoke, was rough with disuse.

'Shut up, Malfoy,' he said, with the ghost of a smile.


End file.
